XMen Folk Tales
by Jazzismylyf
Summary: In the Appalachian Mountains, there exists a rich story-telling culture. What if the X-Men were a part of these stories? Pairings: Kiotr, Romy, Jott, Jonda, Anlocke
1. Sterling Rasputin

Introduction:

I remember as I was growing up how my grandmother would tell us stories that she had heard growing up in North Carolina. It wasn't until I was older that I truly began to appreciate the history and the culture that these stories contained and preserved.

In the Appalachian Mountains, the oral story-telling tradition is as old as Sunday go-to-meeting, and just as treasured. Therefore, these stories shall be written here in the vernacular in which they were told in order to lend to you, the reader, a voice similar to the one in which I always heard these stories recounted.

Because of this, some of your favorite X-Men characters may seem to be a bit OOC, but I tried to keep them true to both the tale in which they are placed and their most identifiable of personal traits; i.e. those with foreign accents will adopt Appalachian accents for the sake of the story, but the characters will still be recognizable. Some, however, you will have to guess at their identity if I do not explicitly state their name, but I will give you hints in the text.

Enjoy!

A/N: My thanks to Richard Chase, who worked so hard collecting these stories and finally capturing them in words on paper so that others could also enjoy these wonderful tales.

Disclaimer: The X-Men are the property of Marvel, not me. If they were, Kitty and Peter would be married by now, just like they are in _every single _alternate future timeline.

A/N: This first story is a variation of "Whitebear Whittington," an Appalachian version of _Beauty and the Beast_. This one was always my favorite, and so it shall feature my favorite couple. Cheers

* * *

**Sterling Rasputin**

One time there was a man, name of Charles, who had three daughters. His wife was dead, and the three girls, they kept house for him. And one day he was fixin' to go to town, so he called his girls, asked 'em what did they want him to bring 'em. The oldest, her name was Jean, told him, says, "I want a silk dress the color of every bird in the sky."

The second girl, name of Anna Marie, said, "I want you to bring me a silk dress made out of every color in a rainbow."

The youngest 'un – she went by the name of Kitty – she didn't say anything. So directly he went and asked her didn't she want him to bring her something too. She studied a minute, says, "All I want is some cream-white roses. If you see a white rosebush anywhere you might break me a basketful."

Well, he took him a basket of eggs and got on his horse and went on to town. Got all his tradin' done and started back. Rode on, rode on, come to where there was a thick wilderness of a place, saw a big rosebush 'side the road, full of cream-white roses. So he got off his horse and broke off a few. Thought he heard something behind him, says:

"_You break them and I'll break you!"_

So he stopped, looked around, waited awhile and tried to see what it was spoke, didn't see anybody nor hear it again, so he broke off some more. Then he heard it real plain – sounded like it was back in the wilderness –

"_You break them and I'll break you!"_

He started to quit that time, but he still couldn't see anybody or anything, and the prettiest roses were still on the bush, so he reached out his hand to break them off – and that thing said:

"_Give me what meets you_

_first at the gate, _

_you can break all you want_

_till your basket is full."_

He thought a minute or two – and he knew that his old dog always came lopin' out in the road whenever he got in home. The old hound wasn't much good anyway – so he answered, says:

"_Whatever meets me_

_first at the gate, _

_you can come take it_

_whenever you want."_

Went ahead and broke white rosebuds till his basket was full. Got on his horse and rode on in home.

He kept lookin' for his dog to come out but the old hound was up under the house asleep and before he could whistle for it here came his youngest girl flyin' out the gate to meet him.

He hollered to her and motioned her to go back but she wasn't payin' him any mind, came right on. She took his basket and was a-carryin' on over how pretty the roses were. So she thanked him and went to helpin' him unload his saddlebags, and when they got to the house she saw he was lookin' troubled, says, "What's the matter, Daddy?" But he wouldn't tell her.

And he never came to the dinner table when the called him to supper, just sat there on the porch lookin' back down the holler. So the girls, they ate their supper, and it got dark directly and they lit the lamp. Sat there sewin' and talkin', and all at once they heard a voice out in the road –

"_Send out my pay!"_

Charles came in the house then, and told 'em what'n-all he had heard when he broke the roses. Then Jean she said to him, says, "Aw, just send out the dog. How could it know what met you first?"

So they called the dog and sicked him out toward the gate. He ran out barkin' and then they heard him come back a-howlin', scared to death, and he crawled way back under the floor and stayed there. Then they heard it again –

"_Send out my pay!"_

So Jean and Anna Marie said they wasn't afraid, said they'd go see what it was. Out they went, and directly there was a commotion at the gate and the two girls came tearin' back to the house so scared they couldn't speak. Then it hollered louder –

"_Send out my pay!"_

Then Kitty said, "I'll have to go, Daddy, but don't you worry; I'll come back some way or other."

So she gathered her up a few things in a budget and kissed her father and went on out to the gate. There stood a giant metal man, and as soon as he set his eyes on her, he was in love with her.

"I'll carry you up on my back," he told her. So he lifted her up on his back and he started off.

Kitty was cryin' so hard her nose bled and three drops of blood fell on the silver giant's back and stained it. They went on, went on, and 'way up in the night she made out how they went past a big white rosebush out in a thick wilderness. Came to a fine house out there and the silver giant stopped and set her down.

When she was set down she went on in the house. The metal giant came in behind her, says, "Light that lamp there on the table." So she lit the lamp, and when she turned back around there stood a good lookin' young man with raven-black hair and eyes bluer than the noonday sky. The minute she looked at him she thought the world of him. He said to her then, says, "This house and everything in it belongs to you now, and there's nothing here to hurt you."

Then he took the lamp and they went through all the rooms lookin' at all the fine things, and directly they came to a pretty bedroom and he told her, says, "Now I got a spell on me and I can't be a man but part of the time. From now on I can be a man of a night and stay with you here and be a giant of a day, or I can be a giant of a night and be a man of a day. Which had you rather I be?"

So Kitty thought about it and she didn't like the idea of a cold metal body layin' next to her in bed of a night so she told him she'd rather he'd be a man of a night. So that was the way it was. He was a metal giant in the daytime and worked around outside or painted while she kept house, and when dark came he'd be a man. He kept plenty of wood and water in the house and they'd talk together and he was good company.

So they kept on and she lived happy even if her husband did have to be a metal man half the time. He told her how it was he'd been witched, said he'd get out of it someday but he didn't know just how it would be. And after three or four years Kitty had three little babies, two boys and a girl. Then when her least one was big enough to walk she told her husband she wanted to go back to see her father again. It looked like that troubled him but he told her alright, they would go; but he said she would have to promise him not to tell _any_body anything about him, and _never_ to speak his name.

"If you speak my name to any living soul I'll have to go away. And you will see me going off over the mountain and it will be awful hard for us ever to get together again."

So she promised him and early the next mornin' he took her and their three children on his back and he let them off at her father's gate. He leaned down and kissed her and reminded her not to tell anyone anything about him, and she took her babes and went on in the house.

Now, while Kitty had been gone, her two older sisters had met and married two fine young men. Jean had married a handsome feller from up north who always seemed to be wearin' red glass lenses over his eyes, and Anna Marie had married a slick young charmer from down in Cajun country. Both Kitty's sisters and her father were all proud to see her again and told her how pretty her children were and commenced askin' her who her husband was and where they lived and all. She told 'em she couldn't tell. Well, they kept on at her and she kept tellin' 'em she couldn't possibly tell, so her sisters they started actin' mad and wouldn't speak to her. Still she wouldn't tell; but the next day Charles took her aside and spoke to her about it, says, "Just tell me his name."

She thought surely she ought to tell her own father what her man's name was, so she whispered it to him—

"_Piotr Rasputin."_

And she hadn't but spoke it when she looked up and saw her husband and he was in the shape of a normal man, and he was goin' off up the Piney Mountain, and on the back of his silver shirt were three drops of blood.

Well, she loved him, so she left the children there with her father and started out to try to find her man again. She took out the way he went over the Piney Mountain but she never did see him on ahead of her. But she went on, went on. Sometimes she'd think she was lost but silver bird would fly over and drop a silver feather with a red speck on it, so she'd go on the way that bird was headed. Then she'd stop at a house to stay the night and they'd tell her about the fine young man had stayed there the night before, had three drops of blood on his shirt.

So she went on, went on, for seven years and that bird would fly over whenever she got down-hearted, so she didn't give up. Then late one evening she stopped at a house and called to stay the night and an old, old woman awful stricken in age with snow-white hair and dark wrinkly skin came to the door, looked like she was over a hundred years old and she was walkin' on two sticks, told her to come on in. The old woman looked at her, says, "Girl, you're in bad trouble now, ain't ye?"

So Kitty told the old lady about what'n-all had happened, and how she'd been tryin' to find her man again, and directly the old woman told her, says, "You just stay here with me now, and get rested up a little, and it may be I can help you. I got a lot of wool to work and I need somebody. Will you stay and help me about my wool?"

Kitty said yes, she would. So the next day they got all the fleeces out and she helped pick put the burrs and trash, and washed the wool in the creek, while the old woman carded. Carded so fast Kitty had a time keepin' up with her and they got it all done by sundown. And that night the old woman, who was lookin' to be 'bout thirty years younger and wasn't walkin' around on her sticks, she gave Kitty a gold chinquapin. The next day, Kitty she helped with the spinnin': handed the rolls of carded wool to the old lady, and it was a sight in the world how she could spin. They got it all spun up about dark, and that night the old woman, who now looked to be about fifty years, handed Kitty a gold hickory nut. Then the third day the old woman she sat down at her loom and Kitty kept fixin' the bobbins and handin' 'em to her and the old loom went _click! wham! click! wham! _all day long, and just 'fore dark the weavin' was all done. By this time the old woman was now a beautiful young woman, but her hair was still the same snow-white and her dark skin was smoothed of all its wrinkles. So that night the beautiful woman gave Kitty a gold walnut, says, "Now you keep these three gold nuts and don't you crack 'em till you're in the most trouble you could ever be in. And if the first one don't get ye out, crack the next, and if you have to crack the last 'un you surely ought to be out of your trouble by then."

So Kitty thanked the beautiful lady and the next mornin' she left with the three gold nuts in her apron pocket. She went on, went on, and in three days she came to a river and she went along the river till she came to a washin' place where a great crowd of young women was gathered, and there in the middle of all them women she saw her husband. She got through the crowd and went up to him, but when he looked at her, it was just as if he never had known her before in all his life.

He didn't have any shirt on and she saw the women lined up before the washin' place and one girl was down on her knees washin' his shirt with all her might. She listened and heard 'em talkin' about how that young man had said he'd marry the one could wash the blood out of his shirt. So Kitty got in line and finally got down to the washin' place. The one ahead of her was a tall blonde woman and she was down on her knees a-washin' that shirt so hard it looked like she'd tear it apart. Soap it and maul it with the battlin' stick and rinse it and soap it and maul it again, but the blood just got darker and darker. So directly Kitty said she'd like to have her turn. That other woman didn't get up off her knees, looked at her, says, "Humph! If I can't get this blood out I know a puny thing like you can't do it."

Well, Kitty just leaned down and took hold on his shirt and gave it one rub and it was pure silver once again. But before she could turn around the icy blonde woman grabbed it and ran with it, says, "Look! Look! I washed it out!"

So Piotr had to go home with her.

His real wife knew now she was in the most trouble she could ever be in. So she followed 'em and saw what house it was, and about dark she went there, went right in the door and cracked her gold chinquapin. It coiled out the finest gold wool you ever saw – just one long carded roll ready to be spun. So she started pullin' out the gold wool and pretty soon that other woman came in and saw it, says, "Oh, I must have that! What will you take for it?"

"Why, I couldn't part with my gold nut."

"You name any price you want now, and I'll give it to ye."

"Let me stay this night with your man and you can have it."

"Well! I must have that gold chinquapin. You go on out and wait till I call you."

So she took the gold chinquapin and put it away. Then she put a sleepy pillow on Piotr's bed and just before he went to bed she gave him a sleepy dram, and then she called Kitty, and when she went in to him he was sound asleep. She sat down beside him and tried to wake him up but he slept right on. So she stayed there by him all night cryin' and singin':

"_Three drops of blood I've shed for thee!_

_Three little babes I've born for thee!_

_Piotr Rasputin! Turn to me!"_

And when daylight came that other woman made her leave. Well, Kitty came back that next evening and broke the gold hickory nut. A fine spinning wheel came out of it, stood right up in the floor and started spinnin'. All you had to do was put the gold chinquapin in a crack in the legs and set the end of the wool on the spindle, and it spun right on – spin and wind, spin and wind all by itself. It was the finest gold thread you ever saw. And when that blonde woman came in and saw, she said she just had to have the wheel. So Kitty let her have it for another night with her man. But when she went to him he slept right on through the night because that sleepy pillow was still under his head and that blonde woman had gone and given him another sleepy dram. So all night his wife stayed by him tryin' to wake him up –

"_Three drops of blood I've shed for thee!_

_Three little babes I've born for thee!_

_Piotr Rasputin! Turn to me!"_

And early in the morning that other woman came, said, "Get on out now. Your time is up."

Well, the next evening the father of that blonde woman called the young man just before bedtime. Said he wanted to have a word with him. So they walked out a ways and the old man said to him, says, "I couldn't sleep a bit the last two nights. There's some kind of a cryin' noise been goin' on in your room, and somebody singin' a mournful song right on up through the night."

Piotr said he had slept uncommon sound the last two nights, hadn't heard a thing.

"Well now," says the old man, "I want you to be sure to stay awake tonight, and listen and see what all that carryin' on is."

So that night Kitty came and cracked the gold walnut and a big loom came out of it – just r'ared up in the house time she broke the nut. It was warped with gold warp and all you had to do was feed it bobbins of that gold thread and it wove right on – all by itself. The blonde woman she heard it a-beatin' and she came running.

"Oh, my! I must have that! What'll you take for your loom?"

Kitty told her.

"Well!" she says, real hateful-like, "You can stay with him tonight but I'll tell ye right now it's the last time."

So she made Kitty go out and then she looked about that sleepy pillow still bein' on the bed, went and fixed that sleepy dram, made it real strong, and when Piotr came in to go to bed she handed it to him, made him drink it; but he kept it in his mouth and when she left he spit it out. Then he looked at that pillow and threw it off the bed. Laid down and closed his eyes. The blonde woman she looked in at him to make sure he was asleep, then she let Kitty in. She came in the room and saw him there with his eyes shut and the grief nearly killed her. She didn't know what she'd do. She came and sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his shoulder and started cryin':

"_Three drops of blood I've shed for thee!_

_Three little babes I've born for thee!_

_Piotr Rasputin!—"_

Well, time she called his name he opened his eyes and turned to her, and then he knew her. So he put his arms around her and pulled her into the bed with him, kissin' her and tellin' her how much he loved her and had missed her.

The next morning that other woman came and found the door locked and she was mad as time. And after they got up, Piotr came and called that woman's father, said, "Let's step outside. I want a word with _you._"

So they went out and he told the old man, says, "If you had a lock and a key, and the key fitted the lock perfect, and you lost that key and got a new one; then you found the old key again, and it fitted the lock much better than the new one – which key would you keep?"

The old man answered him, says, "Why, I'd keep the old one."

"Well," says Piotr, "I found my wife last night and she suits me a lot better than your daughter does, so you can just have her back."

So Kitty and Piotr left and got their three children and went on home, and that spell on him was broke so he never was a metal giant again, and they lived happy.


	2. Remy of Loxley

A/N: I highly recommend to all my readers that you try telling these stories to someone else; that's what these stories were made for. Feel free to use these stories as a script to read from. The original name of "Sterling Rasputin" is "Whitebear Whittington," so everywhere you see Piotr's name, substitute in Whitebear Whittington, and every time you see the words 'gray' or 'silver,' sub in 'white,' and instead of being a giant metal man, he's a big white bear. And obviously, bears can't paint, so he lays around the house or on the porch during the day.

For this story, it's much simpler: everywhere you see 'Remy,' simply say 'Robin' instead, and instead of 'Anna and her brother,' it's two young boys. The original name of this tale is "The Outlaw Boy." Enjoy!

"_No, it'll not do just to read the old tales out of a book. You've got to _tell_ 'em to make 'em go right."_—Tom Hunt

* * *

The King claimed he had a lot of deer out in the wilderness places, and he made a law that anybody who shot his deer would be hung. Now this young feller in the tale – Remy, that was his name – he had been out a right smart with the Indians and had got to be an awful good hand with the bow 'n arrow. He was a good shot: knock a dead center a hundred steps off. He liked to go out in the woods after wild turkeys and squirrels, but he never had bothered none of the King's deer.

Then one day he was out in the mountains and he met up with a deputy sheriff. They walked along together a piece and they got to talkin' about shootin', and directly they tried some shots. The deputy he'd draw his gun and shoot, come right close to the mark, but that boy would pull his arrow back and hit it right square ever' time. That riled the deputy sheriff, havin' a young feller like that outdo him with a bow 'n arrow, so he stamped his foot on the ground and caused a slight shake in the dirt, but Remy he didn't notice.

So directly they looked out down a holler and saw a deer feedin' about a hundred yards from where they were at. The deputy says to him, says, "I'll bet ye twenty dollars you can't hit that deer yonder."

"Oh, no. I'll not shoot no deer."

"Go ahead. I'll not arrest ye. Anyhow, you can't hit it from here."

"I won't break de law, I'll tell y' dat right now."

"If you happen to hit it, Ill not turn ye in; not never mention it. Are ye afraid to bet?"

"Put up your money!" Remy told him; and they laid twenty dollars apiece there on the stump.

So Remy drawed his bow and when he let loose the arrow that deer dropped right in its tracks. He reached down to take the money and that deputy grabbed him, says, "Now I got ye! You'll hang for this sure. You got no witness, and they'll take my word against your'n."

They scuffled around and the boy throwed him, and then the deputy reached for his gun, so Remy grabbed his bow and had an arrow on it quicker'n you could turn around and time the deputy sheriff drawed on him Remy shot him in the arm, and that deputy got up and ran off from there as fast as his legs 'uld carry him.

Well, that boy knowed he'd get in trouble if he went back to the settlements, so he decided he'd live in the wilderness. And it wasn't long till several others who'd got in trouble with the King one way or other joined Remy out there. They built 'em up a good campin' place, and after a while there was a big gang of 'em. They lived off game: killed a deer once in a while, gathered berries and nuts, and they did fairly well. They couldn't get no powder nor lead, so they all made bows and arrows and they got to be as good shots with them as anybody else with long-rifles. Hit got to be known all over the country about them bein' such good shots with the bow 'n arrow.

Now that King had caused such hard times in the country that Remy and his gang went to takin' stuff from rich folks that came through on the public road and would give it to them that needed it. So fin'lly they lived pretty good out there, and all the poor people who knew where they camped at wouldn't tell it. The high sheriff of that county he 'uld try to catch some of 'em, but they always went out in several in a bunch and folks 'uld warn 'em in time 'fore any posse got anywhere close. Then they'd hide out and shoot at the sheriff and his men and scare 'em right bad; so pretty soon they just quit tryin' to arrest any of that wilderness outfit.

Now, there was a real pretty girl, Anna, who lived down the holler, and Remy he was smitten with her and liked to call on her occasionally, so one mornin' he was walkin' along with some of his gang to her house and they looked out one side the road and saw Anna's mother sittin' on a log a-cryin'. Asked her what was the matter, and she told 'em that her son and daughter had been arrested for killin' a deer and were goin' to be hung that very day at ten o'clock in the courthouse square. She said since she was a widow and they were so poor they hadn't nothin' to eat, so her children had taken a chance on killin' a deer but had got caught 'fore they got in home with the meat.

Well, this made Remy real mad so he told her, says, "Never you mind about dat, ma'am. You just cheer up now, and go on back home. If anybody gets hung at ten o'clock, hit'll not be your son 'n daughter, because Remy'll be de one goin' to do any hangin' dat's done today."

So the old lady she cheered up and left.

Then Remy he fixed it up with his men to hide out near the courthouse with their bows and plenty of arrows, and he told 'em that when he blowed his horn they were to come a-runnin'. Told 'em to go on and get ready. Said he was goin' on ahead by himself.

So Remy went on toward town, got out in the main road and directly there came an old beggar, bowin' to him, bowin', and takin' off his hat. He had on an old jingly suit of clothes, coat all torn to pieces.

"Howdy do, daddy."

"Good mornin', sir. Good mornin', sir."

"How'd y' like to swap clothes wit' me?"

"Aw, you don't want my old ragged fixin's."

"I might too now. You pull off 'n we'll change right here."

So the old beggar and Remy swapped clothes, and he gave the old man some money to boot. That pleased him awful well. Then Remy asked him, says, "Do y' know who I am?"

"Why, no, I don't know ye."

"I'm de head of dat wilderness gang, and y' better stay out of sight today. Dey might take you for me and shoot ye."

So the old beggar man he headed for the woods, scared to death, and hid out, and Remy went on toward town. He looked out before him directly and here came that white-haired high sheriff ridin' on a big fine horse. So Remy commenced bowin' to him, bowin' to him, till he rode up. Then Remy he made like he wanted to speak to him. The sheriff pulled up his horse, peered at the beggar from behind his metal helmet, says, "What you want?" – Talked awful hateful.

"I need me some clothes – bad. Hain't y' got an old suit y' can give me?"

"No! I got no time to fool with ye. I got to hire somebody to do a hangin' for me today. I been huntin' since early this mornin' for a man that'll take the job, and it's almost time for the hangin' right now."

"I'll hire to hang."

"You will? All right, then. You can have the clothes off the boy bein' hung but don't touch the girl, and I'll pay ye two dollars for the job."

"That'll suit me all right."

"Well, come on, you old fool. We'll have to hurry."

The sheriff rode on off, and left Remy to walk. And when he got to the courthouse the sheriff had them two young people up on the scaffle, and it made Remy real mad to see Anna and her brother up there with the nooses already around their necks.

"Come on here, old man, and get this done. Be quick about it!"

Remy stepped up on that scaffle, and soon as Anna saw him, she recognized him. She looked at him, a tear in her eye, and whispered to him, says, "Remy, help me!"

He winked at her, whispered back, says, "Don't you worry none now, _chere_. I get y' outta here."

Remy looked around, says, "Ain't dere no preacher here to pray for dese fellers 'fore we hang 'em?"

The sheriff scoffed at him, says, "No. We got no time for any such foolishness. Come on here and pull the trap."

"Oh, no, sir, not before we have some preachin' done. I know where I can get us a lot of preachers. I can get 'em here right quick for ye."

So Remy pulled out his horn from under that old ragged coat and blew it, and all his men jumped out with their bows drawn on the sheriff and all his deputies and came at 'em. The crowd that was there to see the hangin' commenced shoutin' and hollerin' and laughin' to see the high sheriff in such a fix, and the sheriff and his men looked at those wooden bows 'n arrows and saw the danger they were in and had to back down. Then Remy he took the ropes off Anna and her brother and she throwed her arms around him and kissed him for savin' them, and Remy told her brother to go on home to let his mother know they were all right.

Then Remy he took hold on the high sheriff and dragged him up on the scaffle, put the noose around his neck, says, "I said I'd do your hangin' today, didn't I?" Says, "I'd sure like to have dat suit of clothes y' got on, too. – You ready to pull de trap boys?"

So they kept on foolin' with the ropes and the trap, a-makin' out like they would hang the sheriff and he kept beggin' 'em not to do it. Then Remy says to him, says, "I'll make ye a proposition now: you promise you'll not bother my girl 'n her brother no more and not take up any more men for deer-killin', and we might let y' off, dis time."

The sheriff, he promised quick. He was just a-sweatin'.

"And y' can tell de King, too, if he interferes wit' dese two, or us either, I'll call my men and we'll raise an army and hang him and all his deputies. Dere's a lot of folks don't care much for de way he's been runnin' things."

So the sheriff agreed to that, too, and Remy turned him loose and he and his men they left there in a hurry.

Remy turned to Anna standin' there by him, says, "I don't want to leave you where I can't see you ever' day, so why don't y' come and live wit' me?"

Anna she said she'd like that, so he turned back to his men, says, "We're through, boys. Let's go on back to headquarters."

So they all went on back to the wilderness, and the law quit botherin' 'em.

* * *

Then that mean King he fin'lly got put out of office, and they had a good King who tried to make better laws and run the nation right, but word was slow gettin' out to that part of the country where Remy and his girl and gang lived, and there were lowdown deputies and sever tax-assessors still runnin' over the people in that section.

So Remy and his men – along with Anna now because she insisted he teach her how to shoot with a bow 'n arrow, and she got to be as good as any of those bandits – they still saw fit to take from the rich and give to the poor. And one day Remy was out huntin' when he saw a brisk-lookin' man comin' along on a horse. Looked like a real rich man, so Remy got out before him, drawed his bow and stopped him, says, "Hand here your money, ever' cent of it."

That man reached in his saddle-pockets and started handin' over his money.

"Look in your clothes, too. I want to know how much y' got on ye."

Well, when the man started reachin' in his pockets, his coat folded back and Remy saw by the badge on him that it was the King. So he took all the money and handed it back to him. – Hit wasn't so much – not more'n a travelin' man 'uld need anyhow.

"No. I'll not take anything off you. I love my King. We've done heard about y' out here, and we're glad you've come. I reckon you'll be cleanin' up all the deviltry dat's been goin' on in dese settlements."

"And who are you?" the King asked him.

"My name's LeBeau – Remy LeBeau."

"Are you the one that dressed up like a beggar that time, and played such a trick on the sheriff?"

"Yes, I'm de one."

The old King throwed back his head and laughed good, slapped his hand on his knee, says, "Then you're the very man I'm looking for. I've heard a lot about you boys – good report, too, according to my way of thinking. Heard about you being such good shots with the bow and arrow and I wanted to see you shoot a little."

"Just come on and we'll go back where my gang is at. We'll fix up a little somethin' to eat first, and den we might do a little shootin' for ye."

So he took the new King right on in to headquarters, says, "Boys, Anna, dis here man is our new King. Fix up a little dinner for all of us now, and after we eat we'll have a little fun."

They went to it and cooked up all kinds of good deer meat and bear meat and wild turkeys and fish. Baked some big pones of bread, and got dinner all ready. Then they set the King down and they all pulled up their benches, and it was a sight in the world to see them men eat. Anna had tried to get them to use more table manners, but she had given up after a while, allowin' to herself that boys would always be boys, especially ones that lived out in the wilderness. The King bragged on how good everything was, and they talked politics a little, and they fin'lly got done eatin'. Then they set up some poles and marks a good piece off and went to shootin'. It was hard to say which one was the best, but if anyone asked later, Remy would say with a smirk that it was his Anna had 'em all beat.

Then the King says to 'em, says, "I never saw such shooting in all my life." Says, "Now, boys, I'll tell you: if you men want to come back under the law again I'll not have you prosecuted for a thing. Why, I can use you, every man here, and especially you, Anna. I need you for sheriffs and deputies in this section; and if any of you want to join my army, I'll study about that, too."

Well, about half of Remy's men agreed and went with the King, but the rest of 'em said they had got so they liked that life out there in the woods best, and so they stayed. As for Remy and Anna, they fin'lly got them a house of their own and invited her brother to come live with them and Remy became the new high sheriff, and last I heard they're livin' happy.


	3. Redder Than Flame

Disclaimer: Would I be here if I _did _own them?

A/N: I would like to give a special thank you to sweet-n-sassy928 for all your kind reviews and advice The original title of this story is "Catskins," but I've edited it so much from the way I originally heard it that I can't list all the changes I've made. If any reader would like to know what they are, PM me and I'll let you know.

I know that this is supposed to be no powers, but I decided to let Wanda have a bit of her powers when it comes to her hair, for the sake of the story. I love it when authors tie seemingly unrelated events together, so that's what I've done in this story; I decided to tie the previous two stories in to this one. Enjoy!

* * *

Once there was a girl named Wanda had no mother and her father had abandoned her as a little girl. She was found by some people and so she stayed with them, but they made her work for what she ate. They never paid her a thing, didn't give her any clothes or nothin'. All she had was one old dress, and when it got ragged she fin'lly had to make her own dress. Well, the only thing she could find was an old leather hide, so she made her an outfit outta that leather and a long leather coat to keep her warm. She cut her red hair short so she could work better, and no one else in that town had ever looked like her, so they started callin' her a witch.

Well, this man's wife she took sick and died. And one day, fairly soon after the buryin', the old frog of a man was out in the fields plowin'; and Wanda she washed herself and put on the dead woman's weddin' dress; went out in the yard and started walkin' around. That man he saw her and came runnin' to the house. He looked at Wanda and asked her would she marry him.

"Well," she looked at him, at his hunched over back and unbrushed teeth, says, "you get me a dress bluer than the deepest ocean."

So he got her the dress. Said, "Will you marry me now?"

She says to him, says, "Will you get me a dress the color of all the flowers in the world?"

He got her that kind of a dress, says, "Will you marry me?"

"Now," she says to him, "you'll have to get me a dress redder than the hottest flame."

So he went and got her that dress, says, "Now will you marry me?"

"I might marry you," she told him, "if you give me your flyin' box."

He didn't want to part with his flyin' box, but he wanted to marry Wanda awful bad; so he went and got her the flyin' box. – "Now, let's get married."

"Well," she says, "you go on out so I can put on one of my dresses."

And time the man left out the back door Wanda dragged the flyin' box out the front door, put all her dresses in it; then she got on the box right quick, says:

"_Rise and fly!_

'_Way up high!"_

And the box rose up in the air and Wanda flew on off from there. She flew right on across the country till she saw a big house—

"_Light me down!_

_Right to the ground!"_

The box lit, and she got out—

"_Sink and lock,_

_under this rock!"_

So the box sunk out of sight under the rock, and Wanda she went on to the big house in her leather outfit and coat. It was a rich man lived there, and Wanda went around to the back door and knocked. The woman of the house opened the door and looked out; and when she saw Wanda, she jumped.

"Law me! What do you want?"

"I want to work."

"Do you think I'd hire a witch like you?"

The old woman's girl was standin' there by the door, says, "Don't be so hard-hearted, Mother. Let her work in the kitchen."

"All right, then – but never a bite she cooks will go in _my_ mouth."

So Wanda went to the kitchen to go to work; and time she walked in the door with that leather coat and short red hair, the kitchen folks was scared to death. They ran out of there like somethin' was after 'em! Then some of 'em slipped back and peeked around the doors. When they saw it was just a poor girl who wouldn't do 'em any harm they came on back.; and so Wanda went to work with the poor folks there in the kitchen.

Well, they were havin' a big dance at the King's house one night and Wanda was helpin' that girl get ready to go.

"You want to go, Wanda? You can look in the windows with the other poor folks."

Wanda said she didn't think she'd go; she might—and she might not. Then when they'd all left, she went to her box—

"_Rise again,_

_and let me in!"_

And the box rose from under the rock and unlocked itself for her. She took out the dress that was bluer than the deepest ocean and put it on and grew her hair out a bit and got in her box and flew on up to the King's house.

"Who's that?" everybody said when she walked in. "Who can that be?" But nobody knew who she was.

Well, time Wanda walked in she looked up to see that regal white-haired King sitting on his throne, and around him were his three Princes. The eldest Prince was quite tall and handsome, and in his arms was a slight young girl with big brown eyes. Around their feet stood three young 'uns, two boys and a girl. The second Prince, who was also the high sheriff, stood next to them, and he was holdin' on to the hand of his wife, Anna. But the third Prince was standin' by himself over next to the hearth, watchin' the flames dance in the fireplace. But as soon as Wanda walked in the door, his eyes had been drawn to her like a moth to flame and he took off with her right away. Kept her for his partner and they led off in every set they danced. That boy he kept his eyes on her every minute but she hardly let him talk to her; and directly they were doin' Lady-'Round-the-Lady, and she and that boy got around the set to the couple near the door, and when Wanda did Lady-'Round-the-Gent-and-the-Gent-Don't-Go she slipped out the door and ran to her box and flew on back. And when they all came home there she was sittin' by the kitchen fire in her leather outfit, her hair cut short.

"Were you there, Wanda?"

"Yes, I was there."

"Did you see that pretty girl?"

"Yes, I saw her."

"Well, the king is havin' another dance tonight. I wonder will that girl come." Said, "You let me sleep till three o'clock tomorrow; I want to be beautiful for that dance."

So the next night Wanda helped that girl get her hair done up, and after they all left she went to her box. And when she walked in that time she had on her dress the color of all the flowers in the world, and her hair reached down to her shoulders.

"There she is!" they all went to whisperin'. "That's her!" But nobody knew who she was.

The third Prince made sure he got her again and they danced and she talked to him a little. He told her 'bout how none of the princes were actual sons of the King; he had adopted them as his own and was grooming them to rule the kingdom when he died.

They talked and danced for a while, and she had a hard time gettin' away from him because he wouldn't pay attention to anybody but her—but fin'lly she slipped out the door and took off; and when they all got back to the house there was Wanda sittin' in the kitchen.

"Oh, Wanda! Were you there?"

"Yes, I was there."

"And did you see what a pretty dress that girl had on this time?"

"Yes, I saw it."

"They say the third Prince is stuck on her—hard. He's goin' to have another dance tomorrow night. Don't you wake me up till four o'clock. I want to be real beautiful, because this is the last dance."

Well, the next night the girl said to Wanda, "If you want to go, I'll lend you one of my dresses, and you can come on in and dance."

"Humpf!" said the old woman. "You can lend her a dress if you want to, but never a dress of _mine_ will go on her back!"

So the girl got one of her dresses for Wanda, and Wanda thanked her and when they'd all left she went to her box and got out her dress that was redder than the hottest flame. And when she walked in the King's house that time everybody just carried on over how beautiful she was, and they all tried to figure out who she could be, but nobody knew her.

As soon as the third Prince laid his eyes on her in that red dress, he was struck speechless. He wouldn't let go of her hand all evenin', and they danced and danced—every figure, from Four-Hands-'Round to Killiecrankie—and she talked to him, and they laughed, and everybody had the best kind of time. Then, just about midnight, he slipped a ring on her finger and when he did that he let go of her hand a second, and Wanda was out the door and gone 'fore he could turn around.

So she hid her dresses and that ring in the flyin' box and made it hide again under that rock—and when they all came back in home there was Wanda sittin' in the kitchen up against the fire place with soot and ashes all over her face and hands.

"Ooh, Wanda! Were you there tonight?"

"Yes, I was there."

"Why, I never saw ye."

"I saw you."

"Well, did you ever see such a pretty dress as that girl had on?"

"Yes, it was right pretty."

"Well, there won't be any more dances now; and they say that when that girl left nobody saw which way she went or nothin'. And they tell me the third Prince never did learn her name or where she came from."

The very next day the third Prince started huntin' for the girl who wore the three beautiful dresses. He hunted and he searched, and he asked everybody he met up with but nobody could tell him a thing; but he kept on searchin' and huntin' for her, and he wouldn't eat, and fin'lly he was sick in bed. The doctors came and they said he was lovesick; said he'd die unless that girl was found.

Well, all the girls tried to make up to him; baked him cakes and took 'em up there to where he was lyin' sick in bed. So one day Wanda said she'd bake a cake for him.

"I say!" That old woman went to squawkin'. "_You_ bake him a cake! He _would _get sick if _you_ was to bake him a cake!"

"Aw, Mother, don't be so hard-hearted. Let her bake him a cake if she wants to."

"Well! There'll be no bite of it go in _my_ mouth!"

So Wanda she went and got that ring, and when she baked the cake she put the ring in it. She got it baked and made it real pretty with white icin', and then the old woman she came and took it away from her.

"You ugly thing! Do you think you could go up there in your leather hides? I'll take it to him myself."

So she traipsed on up to the King's house, and took the cake on in to that boy. A maid cut him a piece and that ring fell out on the plate.

"Why, look!" she says. "It's a ring!"

And when she showed it to that boy he sat up, says, "Where did that ring come from?"

"Out of the cake."

"Who baked it?"

"I did," said the old woman. "I did!"

"No such thing!" the Prince told her. "Whoever baked that cake you bring her here right now, or I'll have your head cut off!" And he called for his clothes and started getting' up out the bed.

The old woman she left there scared to death, and she fetched Wanda back in a hurry.

Wanda stood there in the door and the Prince looked at her, and then he smiled.

"You're the very one!" he said; and he went to take her by the hand, but she turned and ran out again. She went and raised her box, and then she got in it—

"_Rise and fly!_

_Not too high!"_

And it rose up and took her back to the King's place. She put on the first dress and came in the house.

The Prince looked at her, says, "No—the other one."

So she went and came back in with the second dress on.

"No—that's not right yet."

She went and put on her red dress and when she came back in that time he went to her and took her hands and kissed her.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," Wanda told him.

So they got married, and they lived happy in the King's house with the other Princes and their families.

And last I heard, the King made that old woman work the rest of her days in _his_ kitchen.


	4. A Coal of Fire

I would like to recommend the X-Men Supreme story currently being written by marvelmaster616, to any who are interested. It's an incredible piece of fiction, and very well thought-out and written.

A/N: My younger sister and I were helping my grandmother clean out one of the rooms in her house when we came across some old storybooks that she used to read to us. Even though we're both grown young ladies, we insisted she read to us from them for memory's sake. I felt as if I were five again. Also, we unexpectedly came across a collection of Jack tales, and I am currently going through them to see if I can fit them into these stories, so this collection may end up being a couple of stories longer.

* * *

One time there was a woman had two daughters named Emma and Selene, and they kept a hired girl. They treated this girl mean. She was bound out to 'em, had to do all the hard work, little as she was. They wouldn't buy her any pretty clothes or nothin', made her sleep right up against the fireplace and the ashes and cinders got all in her long red hair, so they called her Ashpet.

Well, one day they were all fixin' to go to church-meetin'. They never let Ashpet go anywhere. They knew she was prettier than the old woman's two girls, and if anybody came to the house they always shoved Ashpet under a washtub. That day, just when they were tryin' to get fixed up to go to meetin', their fire went out, so they had to borrow fire. Now there was an old witch-woman lived over the gap in the mountain. These rich folks, they wouldn't have nothin' to do with this old woman, but they had to have fire so they sent the oldest one of the girls over to borrow some fire. So Selene she went traipsin' on over the gap. She thought herself so good she didn't go in the house, just stuck her hand through a crack in the logs.

"I came after fire."

"Come in and comb my hair and I'll give you some."

"I'll not put my pretty clean hands on your old cat-comb!"

"You'll get no fire."

The old woman she sent the next oldest. Emma went a-swishin' up the hill and through the gap. She was so nice! She ran her hand through that crack.

"I want some fire."

"Come in and comb my hair."

"Me? Put my nice white hands on your old cat-comb?"

"Put off then. You'll get no fire."

Then the old woman hollered for Ashpet. And Ashpet she went on up through the gap, ran down the holler, and went right on in the house.

"Good evenin', Auntie Margali."

"Good evenin', Ashpet."

"I want to borry a coal of fire, please, ma'am."

"Comb my hair and you can have it."

Ashpet combed her hair for her, and then the old woman gave her some fire: put it in an old dried toadstool.

"You goin' to meetin', Ashpet?"

"Law, no! They never let me go anywhere at all. I got to wash the dishes and scour the pots. I'll not get done till meetin's plumb over."

"You want to go?"

"Why, yes, I'd like that the best in the world!"

"Then let me tell you a little spell I know that'll help you with your cleanin'." Then she leaned in close and whispered that spell into Ashpet's ear. "Now soon as your cleanin's done, I'll be up there to see you."

Ashpet she ran on back over the mountain and built up the fires, got in wood and water, and went to milkin' and feedin'. She had to hurry 'cause she had supper to cook, too. Then they eat supper, and Ashpet helped the two girls get fixed up. And fin'lly they all went off to meetin'. When they were all out of sight down the road, Ashpet ran back in the kitchen and set all the dishes on one end of the table and the dishpan on the other end and hit full of scaldin' water. Then she knocked on the table, says:

"_All dirty dishes stay off the shelf!_

_Get in the water, shake yourself_

_Wash, dish! Wash!"_

And all the plates and platters and cups and saucers and bowls and knives and forks and spoons ran over and slipped through the hot water and rose up and shook themselves and hopped up on the shelves just as clean and dry as anybody'd have to do in an hour's hard work. The Ashpet she opened the back door, says:

"_Pots and skillets—handle and spout!_

_Get in the sand and scour out!_

_Scrub, pot! Scrub!"_

And it was a sight in the world how every pot and pan and kettle and skillet went hoppin' and straddlin' out the door and rolled down to the creek and went to rubbin' and scrapin' in the sand and dippin' in the water, and then they all came bumpin' back in the house and settled down by the hearth-rock right where they belonged. Ashpet had an awful good time watchin' all that. She nearly laughed herself to death.

Well time Ashpet was done here come that old witch-woman a-hobblin' through the gap with her stick. She walked in the house, went on out to the kitchen, reached in her apron pocket, took out a mouse, and an old piece of leather and a rawhide string, two scraps of shoe-leather, and an old piece of rag. She put the mouse down before the door, laid that chunk of leather on it, dropped that rawhide string over its head, says:

"_Co-up, little mare!_

_Whoa, now! Whoa!"_

—and there stood the finest little pied-ed mare you ever saw: pretty new saddle and bridle on it, and it was just as gentle as a girl 'uld want. Then that old witch-woman she knocked that piece of rag around this way and that, laid it on the bed; took the two scraps of leather, knocked them up a time or two, set 'em under the bed, says, "Now, Ashpet, you shut your eyes and wish for the dress and slippers you want to wear to meetin'."

Ashpet shut her eyes and wished, and when she opened 'em there was a pretty red dress stretched out on the coverlet, and under the bed were the prettiest red slippers—the littlest 'uns you ever saw. Then Ashpet she washed herself and her hair till it shone and put on her red dress and slippers.

"Now," says the old woman, "quick as meetin' breaks, you get back here and hide your horse in the bresh, and hide your dress and slippers, and put on your old ashy clothes again."

Ashpet went ridin' on up to the church-house, and tied her horse and walked in the door. Everybody saw her, but nobody knew who she was. Now the King's son was there and he kept his eyes right on her. When meetin' started breakin' he followed Ashpet, and saw her get on her little mare and turn its head to go, so he jumped on his horse and took out after her. She paid no attention but he caught up with her directly, started talkin' to her.

They rode on a piece, and then she eased off one of her slippers and kicked it in the bresh; rode on a little piece farther, says, "I've lost one of my slippers, sure's the world! It must have dropped off in the road somewhere between here and the church-house."

"I'll get it for you," he told her. "You wait here now." And he turned his horse and went back. But time he was out of sight she galloped her little mare on in home, hid it in the woods, ran to the house and hid her dress and slipper, got her old ashy dress again and went to sweepin' and dustin'.

That boy had a time findin' her slipper but fin'lly he saw it there in the bresh, picked it up, and when he rode on back and found the girl gone he didn't know what in the world to do.

Well, he took her little red slipper and went all over the country lookin' for the one it would fit. Got down there where the old woman and the two girls lived at fin'lly; and when they saw him comin' they grabbed Ashpet and run with her and stuck her under that washtub.

The King's son came on in with the slipper, says, "This slipper came off the prettiest woman in the world, and the one it fits is the one I'll marry."

Selene she took the slipper and ran out behind the house; took a knife and trimmed her heel and toes till she made it fit. The boy looked at her other foot and he got suspicious; and just about that time a little bird flew to the door and started singin':

"_Trim your heels, and trim your toes!_

_Under the tub the slipper goes!"_

"What did you say, little bird?"

"Shoo!" says the old woman, and the bird flew off.

The King's son he jerked the slipper off that girl and he saw how she'd trimmed her heel and toes. So Emma she grabbed the slipper and ran out. She squeezed her foot in it, but she had to trim her heel and toes, too. Then that boy he looked at her foot and it was in the slipper all right but when he looked at her face he wasn't satisfied at all; so he pulled the slipper off again, and then he noticed where she had been trimmin' her heel and toes.

Then that little bird fluttered at the door again—

"_Trim your heels, and trim your toes!_

_Under the tub the slipper goes!"_

"Shoo!" hollered the old woman.

But the King's son he watched the bird and it flew out in the yard and lit on that tub –

"Trim_ your heels, and _trim_ your toes!_

_Under the tub the slipper goes!"_

So the boy went out and lifted the tub and looked in under it, and there was Ashpet.

"What you doin' under there?"

"They always put me under here."

"What's your name?"

"They call me Ashpet, but my name's Jean."

"That's a mighty pretty name. Mine's Scott. Why don't you come on out, Jean."

"I'm too ragged and dirty."

"You try this slipper on. Here!"

So Jean stuck out her foot and he put the slipper on it and it fitted perfect. Then she went and washed her face and hair and put on her red dress and her other slipper; ran out in the bresh and got her horse, and she and the Prince Scott rode on off and got married.

Well, the other two girls and the old woman they acted awful nice after the weddin', went up to the King's house several times and they always brought Jean somethin'. Then one day the girls told her about a fine place to go swimmin', says, "Let's go up there today and go in. Come on and go with us, Ashpet."

So they took Jean up to the swimmin' place and both the girls acted like they were goin' in the water but they let Jean go in first. They knew that a Short Hairy Man lived in that hole of water; and when Jean went in, he got her. The two girls laughed and went on home.

The Short Hairy Man kept Jean in a cave in the bank over that deep water, and she couldn't get away from him. There wasn't any boat, and the water was swift and it licked right up to the mouth of the cave. Well, after Jean was there a day or so the Short Hairy Man got to braggin' about how his hide was so thick there couldn't no ball nor bullet hurt him.

"Can't hurt ye _no_where?" Jean asked him.

"Nowhere," he told her, "—except a little mole back of my left shoulder. If I was to get hit there it 'uld lay me out, cold."

Now the King's son had done raised an army to hunt for his wife, and they fin'lly come by that cave. Jean ran out and stood over that deep hole and they saw her.

"Shoot him in the back of his left shoulder!" she hollered to 'em. Then she ran and hid behind a big rock.

The men they got some boats and rowed across and shot in the mouth of the cave. Here came Short Hairy Man a-scrapin' and a-gruntin', and he went to grabbin' the men out the boats and throwin' 'em back across the river as fast as they landed, but they got more boats and landed on both sides of that cave. They kept on shootin' but the bullets and balls just glanced off the Short Hairy Man's hide, and he kept right on fightin' and a-throwin' the men every which-a-way. But fin'lly the Prince Scott and some of his men got in behind him and they went to aimin' back of his left shoulder until one ball happened to hit that mole – and that fixed him – knocked him out, cold.

So they took Jean and ran for life, rowed across in a hurry. Short Hairy Man he came to about the time they landed on the other side, and he went to jumpin' up and down a-hollerin', "You got my woman!"

Well, as soon as the Prince Scott got Jean home safe, he went and arrested that old woman and her two girls, carried 'em down to that deep hole of water and threw 'em in. Says, "Here's ye _three_ women!"

And Short Hairy Man he came out and grabbed 'em and hauled 'em in his cave – and they're down there yet, I reckon.

* * *

Sweet-n-sassy928: Yes, there is most definitely a shortage of Kiotr on , and everywhere for that matter. Oh, btw, I'm gonna PM you a preview of my latest work soon. I haven't finished writing it yet, but it's gonna be good ;) And it's definitely a Kiotr.


	5. A Mile In a Step

One time there was a man and a woman come from England to the United States – back when this country was first settlin' up and families were scattered about in the wilderness. This man and his wife they had two children named Brian and Betsy, and they lived 'way back in the mountains where it was solid woods. They had one little patch cleared for corn and beans but they had to live mostly off of wild game, and game had got so scarce they was about to starve. And one night the old woman started in talkin' to the old man, told him she didn't see how they could make out having two children to feed, said he ought to take 'em off and lose 'em in the wilderness – let 'em make out the best they could. So they decided to take Brian and Betsy off the next day and leave 'em somewhere in the woods. Brian he had stayed awake and heard every word they said, so he slipped out just about daylight and picked up little white flint rocks till his pockets was full.

Well, that mornin' the man took Brian and Betsy 'way off in the wilderness and when they got a right long ways off from the house they come to a chestnut grove and he told the children to stay there and pick up chestnuts while he hunted some game. Left 'em there and put out. But Brian he told Betsy, says, "Come on. No use in us waitin'." Brian he had dropped them rocks on the way. So he commenced followin' his trail of white flints and he and Betsy got back in home about dark. The man told 'em, says, "Why, we was jest fixin' to start to hunt for ye. You must 'a not stayed where I told you to. We thought you was lost."

So the next mornin' he got up real early and took the children off 'fore daylight. So Brian didn't have no time to pick up rocks but he pulled a couple of ears of corn and hid 'em under his shirt-tail, and he 'uld shell off some grains every few steps. That time they went about twice as far, and then the old man left 'em and pulled out. Brian he tried to follow that trail of corn and he found it pretty well for about a half a mile but the squirrels and coons and 'possums and birds had come along and eat the corn. So that time the children really was lost. They tried to beat their way back but it got plumb thick dark. Betsy she got awful scared 'cause they could hear the wolves howlin' and pan'ters screamin'. And then she give plumb out and Brian took her up on his back – told her not to cry, said he'd get her out all right.

Come to a big high rock cliff after a while, cloomb up on it and saw a light off across the holler. Headed for where that light was at, come to a road, and directly they found the house. Knocked on the door and an ugly lookin' woman opened it. She told 'em to come on in. There was a boy there about Brian's size, named Warren. So the old woman give the three children some mush and milk and sent 'em up in the loft. Betsy she went on off to sleep, but Brian and Warren they got to talkin' and Warren told Brian the old woman was a witch. Said she killed all the travelers that came by there and the only reason she hadn't killed him was she had to have somebody to cut her firewood. Said he never could get away 'cause she had clip-boots that went a mile at a clip. So Warren and Brian they made 'em a plan to try to get away. They slipped shingles out the roof till they had a hole big enough to get out of, and then they laid back down and made like they was sleepin'.

The old woman she got out a big butcher knife and commenced whettin' it on her whet-rock. She whetted it a while, then she called Warren, "Warren, you all asleep yet?"

"No'm."

So she went on whettin' her knife – _scrape, scrape, scrape._

Then Brian and Warren tied the corner of one of them quilts to a rafter and put it out the hole and Warren woke Betsy up and helped her out that hole and to the ground.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

"Warren, you all asleep yet?"

"Betsy is, but me and Brian ain't."

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

Then Brian and Warren fixed the straw and the quilts so it looked like Brian and Betsy were still there a-sleepin'. And then Warren helped Brian out and down to the ground.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

"Warren, you all asleep yet?"

"Betsy is, and Brian is, but I ain't."

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

Then Warren he untied that quilt and fixed it so it looked like he was under it, and then he crawled out the hole and Brian and Betsy helped him ease down to the ground. Then the three children they slipped off from there and when they got out in the road they run for life.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

"Warren, you all asleep yet?"

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

And when there didn't nobody answer, the old woman cloomb up in the loft and slashed her old butcher knife into Brian and Betsy's quilts. Went on back down the ladder and went to sleep. And next mornin' she built her up a big fire to cook the two children. Hollered for Warren to get up and cut some more wood, and when he never answered she went on up in the loft and jerked up Warren's quilt. Then she jerked up them other two quilts, and she was mad as time! Back down the ladder she went, and grabbed up her clip-boots, and out the door. She smelled around and smelled around till she smelled which-a-way the three children had gone, then she jerked on her clip-boots.

Well, Brian and Betsy and Warren they was sharp. They run to that big old rock cliff and Warren showed 'em where there was a long cave-like place back up under that rock – just was big enough for them to crawl in, and couldn't no grown person get in at all. So they slipped in there and went 'way back, and waited, and listened.

And time the old woman had her clip-boots on she took one step and there she was on top of that rock cliff. Then she took off her clip-boots and smelled around up there till she traced them kids to the mouth of that little cave. So she reached in her long old skinny arm but she couldn't reach 'em either.

"O yes," she says, "I'll jest wait for ye. You'll get hungry enough in a few days."

So she went and laid down on top off that rock cliff. Put her boots under her head and waited. She waited and waited, waited till 'bout twelve but there wasn't a sound from them children, and the sun got good and warm and pretty soon the old woman went on off to sleep.

And when Brian and Betsy and Warren heard her snorin' they slipped up to the top of the rock cliff, and Brian and Warren give the old woman a quick shove and Betsy she grabbed hold on them clip-boots. The old woman went rollin' and squallin' down that rock cliff and landed in a briar thicket, and Betsy handed Warren the clip-boots right quick and when he got 'em on he grabbed Brian and Betsy around the waist and lifted 'em up off the ground.

The old woman she'd done scrambled out the bresh and here she come a-tearin' back up the rock cliff all scratched up and her hair full of leaves and trash, and she reached and made a grab for them children but 'fore she got there Warrren he took one step – and that put 'em a mile away from her.

So Warren he held on to Brian and Betsy and in about three more clips they landed in the lowland settle-ment. Then Warren took the boots off and they went to the sheriff and told him all about that old woman killin' folks.

"You may be right," he told 'em, "but you got to have evi-dence. You got any evi-dence?"

Warren told him anyhow he could prove the old woman was a witch; said he knew when she had her witch meetin's. Said she was the head of a big gang of witches. So he told when the next witch meetin' was appointed, and they waited till that night. Then Warren lent the sheriff the clip-boots and he took Warren up on his back and Warren showed him which way to head with them clip-boots. He stepped out and in just a few clips there they was at the old woman's house. So they looked through a crack in the logs and listened to the witches. After a while they heard one of 'em say, says, "Well, I've heard it told a woman never could keep a secret."

"That ain't so," says this old lady, "I've kept a secret. I been killin' travelers that come through here; melted lead and poured it in their ears while they was asleep, and robbed 'em and cooked 'em and eat 'em and buried the bones. Yes, indeed; and that's a secret I've kept more 'n thirty years."

Well, the sheriff went and banged on the door and hollered.

And all kinds of black cats jumped out the door time he opened it. And when they went in the house, there wasn't a soul in there – just one old black cat. Hit come sidlin' up to 'em right friendly-like but the sheriff he kicked it away and then it made for the door but Warren already had the door shut. So then the sheriff hollered again and grabbed the black cat and shook it – and there was the old woman.

The sheriff arrested her and clipped on back to the settle-ment with her under one arm and Warren under the other. And Brian and Betsy and Warren witnessed against the old woman and the sheriff he testified, too; and that was evi-dence enough so they burnt that old witch the next day.

And Warren he made a fortune off those clip-boots and he and Betsy got married, and him and Brian went to clearin' land, and Betsy she kept house for both of 'em. And Betsy and Warren had twelve young 'uns and they all done well.


	6. The Fool's Bet

A/N: There's a bit of a couple switch in this one. No romance, but there is some good old fashioned Scott-bashing.

* * *

One time there were two women got to talkin' about the men folks: how foolish they could act, and what was the craziest fool thing their husbands had ever done. And they got to arguin', so fin'lly they made a bet which one could make the biggest fool of her husband.

So one of 'em said to her man when he come in from work that evenin', says, "Logan, do you feel all right?"

"Yes," he says, "I feel fine, Jean."

"Well," she told him, "you sure do look awful pasty."

Next mornin' she woke him up, says, "Stick out your tongue, Logan." He stuck his tongue out, and she looked at it hard, says, "Law me! You better stay in bed today. You must be real sick from the look of your tongue."

Went and reached up on the fireboard, got down all the bottles of medicine and tonic was there and dosed poor Logan out of every bottle. Made him stay in the bed several days and she kept talkin' to him 'bout how sick he must be. Dosed him every few minutes and wouldn't feed him nothin' but mush.

Came in one mornin', sat down by the bed, and looked at him real pitiful, started in snifflin' and wipin' her eyes on her apron, says, "Well, honey, I'll sure miss ye when you're gone." Sniffled some more, says, "I done had your coffin made."

And in a few days she had 'em bring the coffin right on in beside Logan's bed. Talked at that man till she had him thinkin' he was sure 'nough dead. And fin'lly they laid him out, and got everything fixed for the buryin'.

Well, the day Jean had started a-talkin' her man into his coffin, The other'n she had gone on to her house and about the time her man came in from work she had got out her spinnin' wheel and went to whirlin' it. There wasn't a scrap of wool on the spindle, and the man he fin'lly looked over there and took notice of her, says, "What in the world are ye doin', Emma?"

"Spinnin'," she told him, and 'fore he could say anything she says, "Yes, Scott, the finest thread I ever spun. Hit's wool from virgin sheep, and they tell me anybody that's been tellin' his wife any lies can't see the thread."

So Scott he come on over there and looked at the spindle, says, "Yes, indeed, hit surely is mighty fine thread."

Well, Emma she'd be over there at her wheel every time her husband come in from the field – spin and wind, spin and wind, and every now and then take the shuck off the spindle like it was full of thread and lay it in a box. Then one day the old man came in and Emma was foolin' with her loom, says, "Got it all warped off today. Just got done threadin' it on the loom." And directly she sot down and started in weavin' – step on the treadles, throwin' the shuttle and hit empty. Scott he'd come and look and tell her what fine cloth it was, and Emma she 'uld weave right on. Made him think she was workin' day and night. Then one evenin' she took hold on the beam and made him help her unwind the cloth.

"Lay it on the table, Scott – Look out! You're a-lettin' it drag the floor."

Then she took her scissors and went to cuttin'.

"What you makin, Emma?"

"Makin' you the finest suit of clothes you ever had."

Got out a needle directly and sat down like she was sewin'. And there she was, every time Scott got back to the house, workin' that needle back and forth. So he come in one evenin' and she says to him, "Try on the britches, Scott. Here." He shucked off his overalls and made like he was puttin' on the new britches.

"Here's your new shirt," she told him, and he pulled off his old one and did his arms this-a-way and that-a-way gettin' into his fine new shirt. "Button it up, Scott." And he put his fingers up to his throat and fiddled 'em right on down.

"Now," she syas, "Let's see does the coat fit ye." And she come at him with her hands up like she was holdin' out his coat for him, so he backed up to her and stuck his arms in his fine new coat.

"Stand off there now, and let me see is it all right. – Yes, it's just fine. You sure do look good."

And Scott stood there with nothin' on but his shoes and his hat and his underwear.

Well, about that time Logan's funeral was appointed and everybody in the settle-ment started for the buryin' ground. The grave was all dug and the preacher was there, and here came the coffin' in a wagon, and fin'lly the crowd started gatherin'. And pretty soon Scott with his fine new suit of clothes came in sight. Well, everybody's eyes popped open, and they didn't know whether they ought to laugh or not but the kids went to gigglin' and about the time Scott got fairly close one feller laughed right out, and then they all throwed their heads back and laughed good. And Scott he 'uld try to tell somebody about his fine new suit of clothes, and then the preacher busted out laughin' and slappin' his knee – and everybody got to laughin' and hollerin' so hard the dead man sat up to see what was goin' on. Some of 'em broke and ran when the corpse rose up like that, but they saw him start in laughin' – laughed so hard he nearly fell out the coffin – so they all came back to find out what-'n-all was goin' on.

The two women had started in quarrelin' about which one had won the bet, and Logan heard 'em; and when he could stop laughin' long enough he told 'em, says, "Don't lay it on me, ladies! He's got me beat by a mile!"


End file.
